Repeated Past
by de mouse
Summary: If Sephiroth were still alive, his presence would have been felt even if the man had been on the other side of the world. Burning towns and meteors dropping down from space to say ‘hullo’ always did a remarkable job at catching people’s attention. Yaoi


**Repeated Past**

By: De Mouse

: K-chan

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Standard Disclaimer: The characters used this fanfic are owned and copyright by Squaresoft. The characters are used without permission. This series is only made for entertainment use and does not make any profits of any kind. Any original characters are copyrighted to the authors. Changes in this fanfic can occur without any warning. Please bear in mind that the story contains yaoi, violence and adult language for that matter.

Comments can be sent to Mouse-chan at or K-chan at .Any flames about the yaoi coupling in this fanfic will not be entertained.

**Warning, spoilers for the game. Advent Children events disregarded.**

"-" conversations  
'-' personal thoughts  
_italic_ flashbacks

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CHAPTER 1: THE LAST PAGE AND THE FIRST  
PART 1: STARTING OVER

Bright sunshine bathed the rooftops of North Corel.

The smell of freshly cut timber blending with the sharp flavor of machinery oil filled the air. A handful of young trees stood by a narrow but carefully tiled path that served as a main road gave weary walkers brief relief whenever the desert heat became too intense. Odd looking shops, hastily constructed with whatever their owners could get their hands on, strayed by each side of the road. Further down, residential houses mushroomed out from the dusty ground. While many buildings still spotted that 'freshly painted' look, there were more wooden planks being hauled up as structures for future houses.

The town may not look pretty or well planned out but it had a certain homely feel to it. Elderly men laughed as they gathered for a game of chess and beer. Children peeked longingly at the sticky treats through the town's candy shop windows. Laundry flapped from clotheslines. The distant drone of heavy coal machinery rumbled deep within the mountain and the hammering of construction made the pulse that drove the heart of the town.

North Corel had finally begun to grow.

Tifa Lockheart absently stared out of the open window, watching a group of children playing on the streets. A smile crossed her fair face as she remembered her own days filled with endless blue skies and mountain fields overflowing with wild flowers. How sheltered and contained her world had been at that stage of her life. The smile broadened further when she became aware of a dark skinned man shouldering a young girl with light brown hair attempting to wade through the giggling mass.

Barret let out a loud yell, pretending to be pushed back by the small crowd. He tilted slowly backwards, like a tree threatening to tip over, dramatically exclaiming some nonsense about being unable to withstand the onslaught. Marlene shrieked, tightening her hold, her legs kicking into the air.

Tifa laughed, knowing fully well the chances of the moon turning green was better than Barret accidentally dropping Marlene.

A slight breeze feathered across Tifa's face carrying with it a light sheet of dust. She winced.

Sometimes the construction work was so heavy, it caused the yellow sand on the ground to hover in the air for days. Funny enough, the children seemed to thrive on the sheets of flying dirt, laughing as they chased them down the street. Games like these were so common there was a running wager amongst mothers on which detergent was most effective in tackling the dust encrusted clothes. Some effort was made in introducing grass so as to lower the 'dust storms' but grass did not grow too well on the sandy rock surfaces of North Corel. Since the idea of importing tons of soil just for growing grass was utterly ludicrous, there was some talk of installing temporary sprinklers to combat the dust.

Tifa often sat through numerous North Corel council meetings and was always astounded by the level of sheer enthusiasm she found there. Right after the reopening of the coalmines and renewal of Shinra trade contracts with North Corel, new life breathed into the town. The miners worked as hard as people driven by passion and love for their trade only could work. Improvements piled upon improvements in lifestyles were implemented as revenue trickled in.

She could remember how desolated the tiny town had started out. The worn tents with their bony posts sticking out of the ground like macabre skeletons. Yellow sand that seemed to go on forever suffocated any plant that dare try intruding its territory. How the residents constantly suffered from watery and infected eyes caused by the ever-present dust and sand in the winds for months without proper medication. The brawls between desperate people who had no jobs, no food and not enough resources to try leave the town to seek better lives.

Now, comparing what she remembered to what she could see right in front of her, Tifa was almost awed at what six months of hard work could accomplish.

In the place of despair, there was hope amongst the people and the anticipation of what tomorrow might bring. She was proud to say Barret had been a major factor in the change. He was the one who strode up to Shinra and got them to reopen the mines. He was responsible for the drafting of the new trade contracts. He had tirelessly fought for workers rights and job benefits to ensure the miners did not once again get the raw end of the deal if there ever happened to be another source of energy to replace coal. He had sat down with the people of North Corel and after much effort, convinced them the Shinra who was offering the town another chance was not the Shinra of old. Almost single-handedly, the man dragged North Corel back as its place on the world map as an active coal-mining town. Although he still loved working in the mines, his artificial arm prevented him from fully functioning as a miner. So Barret resigned himself to the administrative role where he contented himself by overseeing the whole thing.

Hot headed, stubborn Barret who always did what he thought was right. And how North Corel loved him for it.

Another reason why Tifa stood by his choice was because his job left him enough time for Marlene. It was not unusual to see the four year old girl bounce up the steps leading to his office when pre-school was over before both of them headed back home together. It was also not unusual for the man to abruptly stop midway through his more 'colorful' rants aimed at colleagues when he realized his daughter was also in the office. It made one wonder who was influencing who.

Tifa smirked remembering Barret's first brave plunge into being a role model to Marlene, armed with the unflinching focus and hard edged determination the man normally reserved for battle.

It involved a lively debate he had with himself about taking off the gun attached to his arm as a first step to being a good dad since no parenting guidebook would ever have a chapter on 'benefits of parents promoting firearms to their kids'. It was quite a sight, watching a broad shouldered man pace back and forth arguing with himself about the benefits of a prosthetic hand versus a gattling gun during their last days in Kalm. However Barret came to a decision when Marlene came back waving a flower the neighbor's son had given her. Tifa wondered if the boy still had nightmares about being tied to a post and almost becoming target practice.

Sliding off her seat on the windowsill, she used one foot to nudge a worn duffel bag out of the way and glanced around the room. It was a pleasant room, filled with enough things to give it character yet not too much to make it look cluttered. Odd trinkets from all over the world decorated the place – a deep blue shell Junon necklace hung by the mirror, in the corner sat an antique vase from Wutai with slim pale branch with a shower of ghostly gray leaves from a fallen Sleeping Forest tree, a chocobo stuff toy from Golden Saucer threatened to be pushed off the bed by several bartending magazines.

It was a room with something interesting to see no matter where a person looked.

'My room. This is my room,' she corrected herself.

She moved to her writing table and rearranged the pile of freshly printed menus. Her gaze automatically lifted towards the bright flyer pinned on the wall, announcing the soon opening of Seventh Heaven in North Corel. Dark eyes brightened in anticipation.

When Barret had announced his decision to head off to North Corel with Marlene on a mission to resurrect the dead town, Tifa decided to follow the man. She had always wanted to build another Seventh Heaven in replacement of the pub lost under the rubble of Sector 7. Reeve had offered her a space in Neo-Midgar for a very reasonable lease but Tifa felt to take up the offer would take a step back into the past. She wanted her new pub to represent the future, the dawning of a new day they had fought and bled for. So what better place than North Corel?

'Soon,' she promised, 'I will make it better than the last. Just you wait and see.'

Planning the pub was easy enough. Most of the interior and exterior design imitated the old Seventh Heaven. Cost for construction and land lease bit a substantial hole in Tifa's wallet but she was more than willing to pay top price for the best of materials and workmanship. Nothing was spared for Seventh Heaven of North Corel. Barret had argued he ought to share at least half of the costs since she had his name down as a sub-owner of the pub but she refused to accept even a single Gil. Tifa could be stubborn when she wanted to and besides, Barret had to provide for Marlene. Bringing up a child these days was incredibly expensive especially with the economy slump due to the chaos caused by the meteor. However, that reasoning did not stop Barret from ranting at her all the way from Kalm to North Corel. Tifa still suffered from acute temporary hearing loss whenever particularly large men start mentioning about money.

Well, to be fair, it could have been worse.

It could have been an absolute nightmare if they were forced to lug their entire luggage across the ocean using gold chocobos _in addition_ to listening to Barret's endless spiel. Tifa supposed Barret would have been unable to talk much since he would be too occupied spitting out mouthfuls of salty ocean water. But as potentially amusing as the depiction was, the woman had already more than her share of suffering from dried salty hair to last her a lifetime thank you very much. It was very unnerving to hop over waves while bouncing on the back of a oversized bird, constantly praying you would jump over the water and not through it.

If there were any more oceans crossing to be done, there'd better be a bloody good reason to get her to hop into a saddle.

So when a certain Highwind captain slammed his bottle of beer down one uneventful evening and said, 'Why'd ya wanna use a bloody bird n drag your asses all th' way cross th' fuck'ng ocean when ya got Highwind?'…all past grievances caused by crazy mid-air spiraling and beer hogging were promptly forgiven, forgotten and evaporated with a Fire3 spell.

Tifa made a note to remind Cid of the upcoming opening of her pub. The man had a tendency to forget even his own name when he was tinkering around his beloved airborne projects. From what she gathered from Shera's infrequent calls, he had suddenly disappeared recently into his workshop muttering incomprehensibly about a new theory regarding the equations on mass versus gravity and had not reappeared for days – a sure sign another project was underfoot.

Humming under her breath, she mentally reviewed the list of guests she had sent invitations to. Most had replied immediately though the method of answering varied from Vincent's elegant but almost painfully formal note of acceptance to Reeve's hurried phone call, which consisted of 'Yes, uh huh…see you then…' to Yuffie's elaborate calligraphy written on a traditional Wutaian scroll. Tifa suspected the manner of the ninja's answer had something to do with Yuffie's father being hard pressed for his daughter to start acting like a proper heir. Nevertheless tradition or not, Tifa could do without being waylaid by random ninja messengers when getting her daily newspaper in her pajamas.

As she reached out for her organizer, her elbow bumped against a stack of books sitting at the edge of her desk, causing them to scatter onto the floor. Loose paper spilled over the carpet, coloring the warm red with pale white squares.

Cursing, Tifa knelt down and was about to gather the fallen items when she caught sight of a dog-eared journal which had seen the extreme joys of water, mud blood and god knows what else.

'Hello, old friend…I remember you.'

The heaviness of the old leather cover felt achingly familiar in her hands as she picked it up. Water marked pages containing photos, neat looping inked words, pictures drawn by a not very artistic hand complimented with a healthy amount of doodles leaped out at her. She skimmed through the first few sections, images tumbling effortlessly into her mind. There was Zangan telling her to punch with her hands in a loose fist…not too tight, keep your knees slightly bent, arms curved, not straight out like tree trunks and concentrate, Tifa, rhythm is everything –

She bypassed the sections where pages had been ripped out or the handwriting ran across the paper in angry lines, the words 'death' and 'fire' almost indistinguishable.

Then there were the hazy memories of days filled with pain soothed by calming presence of an unnamed doctor. The wide slash on her chest had been slow to heal even with the help of materia. Tifa still carried the thin white scar, which no concoction or magic could fade underneath the cover of her white tank top and a liberal amount of skin colored powder.

Further down the dates became a little more inconsistent, filled with various notes on the ways of bartending. Every once in a while there would be a set of instructions cut out from guidebooks of how to mix an obscure drink accompanied with footnotes. Actual journal entries were rare but there were a few blistering pages where her anger at having to hide within the slums to avoid Shinra's notice spilled into words. A burning rage barely contained from being forced to work at a seedy motel bar just to earn barely enough to survive let alone scrap together enough money to buy her way out of Shinra's corrupted claws; killers of her parents, family and hometown. Every day she worked like a slave, bitterly knowing part of her income went directly into her parents' murderers' pockets.

And then everything changed Tifa met Jessie.

Jessie who hacked into the Mako Reactor files during one of her attempts to find out more about Shinra's new 'Invest in Mako' policy and read line after line on how their lifestyles were literally killing the planet. The small woman had formulated a vague plan on stopping Shinra. She owned enough funds herded away from her hacking exploits to finance her purpose but needed a proper figurehead and manpower to back it up. Almost everyone down in the slums was happy to grouse about shitty Shinra but lack the sheer guts to actually pick up a gun and pull the trigger.

Unknown to Tifa who was still scrubbing sticky bar tables, Jessie had broke into several databanks in search of potential recruits whose lives were ruined by Shinra's power games – people who were not afraid to retaliate.

Through her searches, Jessie came across the name Barret Wallace, a seemingly influential miner from the now non-existent town of Corel. After several days of pulling contacts and dead ends, she found proof he was still alive and if anything, harbored a deep hatred for Shinra. It cost Jessie more than she cared to remember in terms of money and pure effort before she managed an encrypted phone conversation with Barret. It took another week of feeding him the charts, diagrams and every scrap of evidence she had dug up before the man would trust her and the information she had to discuss a movement against Shinra. Finally, they agreed to leave the initial setting up phase for the movement now named Avalanche to Jessie since Barret was nowhere near Midgar.

Even after accomplishing that, the newborn Avalanche was still treading on risky ground. Earlier on, Jessie scouted out an ideal location for the movement's base. The rebuilding of the abandoned local pub in Sector Seven was fast nearing its completion but still nothing could be done while Barret remained outside the city walls. And since his name was on Shinra's shit list, it was pretty much certain any formal application for residency would result in an immediate bullet applied into the man's head. The whole situation was made all the more difficult with Barret stubbornly held fast to the condition that he would not even consider coming to Midgar if Jessie could not guarantee a safe passage for his adopted daughter Marlene as well.

If Jessie had not been so convinced she needed Barret, she would have probably told him to get himself screwed one way or the other.

So she combed through the Midgar's black market in hopes of finding a way to smuggle Wallace family through the city gates. The discovery of two brothers Biggs and Wedge was through the blind luck.

Gate Passes into Midgar were rare at best due to the history of illegal immigrants using modified passes to sneak into Shinra under the pretense of having blood relations to registered Midgar dwellers. Shinra was enraged to learn the amount of people waltzing in and out of their gates without permission. Swiftly a new sub clause of the immigration security law was called, approved and implemented. A newly developed security chip was placed in the new version of the electronic passes making them impervious to any tampering attempts. By law, pass owners were to exchange their passes for the new version. Shinra threatened those who did not come forward within the set time limit would be treated as illegal trespassers if found carrying the old pass. The implementation was successful since no one wanted to risk braving Shinra's detention camps that was synonymous to a death sentence.

Before long, the illegal entries dropped drastically and so did the possibility of finding a pass susceptible to modification. Any hacker worth their salt could modify a pass. It was _getting hold_ of one that was next to impossible. However Jessie always believed if you knew the right people at the right place and at the right time, 'impossible' was just another word in the dictionary.

Besides, luck always came her way when she needed it most.

And when she was approached by the brothers, she knew beyond doubt she was the luckiest woman for the week because in their hands was an authentic old Gate Pass. As a payment Biggs and Wedge wanted a list of troopers involved in the Bloody Christmas Raid. Jessie tentatively pressed for details and Wedge had grimly described in a few words how their merchant family had been wrongly slaughtered during the violent episode. Both brothers wanted revenge against the troopers, against Shinra for taking all that was important from them.

In retrospect, cases of Biggs and Wedge were not unusual; Bloody Christmas had left many dead or missing. In retrospect, they were actually quite fortunate to have age on their side in order to survive. Jessie knew of the many who did not. She also knew the brothers would not far in their plans for retribution if the worn state of their clothes and starved appearances were anything to go by.

It took another week and a few more conversations with Barret before she approached the brothers again. This time she held an envelope containing the information they wanted in one hand and an offer of two positions within Avalanche in another. Their meeting was tense taking into consideration Jessie was still a stranger. Both parties went away with what they originally wanted but the additional proposition was left up for grabs. Truthfully Jessie had been unsurprised a few days later when she found Wedge and Biggs at the doorway of the motel room she was staying at. Biggs had silently shoved the unopened envelope back to her. And Jessie could not help but smile in understanding.

Barret's arrival at Midgar was thankfully uneventful. The little group soon settled down into the newly christened bar Seventh Heaven. They tried out a few trial runs of their plans before Barret placed a foot down and demanded they needed someone to mind the shop while they were out doing 'Avalanche stuff'. Juggling their activities while maintaining a steady income between just four members was unfeasible.

Certainly Barret had his own agenda for bringing up the argument (read: Marlene) but Jessie agreed they needed someone to be constantly at the shop for appearance sake. It would definitely provoke suspicion if the staff at Seventh Heaven kept changing every night.

At that point, Wedge mentioned about hearing a rumor about a working-class girl who was quite a spirited fighter. Details were vague but he remembered where she worked and her name. So Jessie the unofficial Avalanche scout, collected bits of information about the woman's history before venturing out to find one Tifa Lockheart. Tifa's recruiting process did not take long. All Jessie had to do was outlined what Avalanche was and what Tifa's new job entailed before Tifa interrupted her with a determined stare and asked one question – when could she start working.

The memories were all there, silent gaps between the photos of Avalanche: Wedge, Jessie and Barret protectively holding onto Marlene.

Tifa remembered being charmed at Barret's uncouth exclamations of 'why Shinra is shit' while he gave her a brief tour of the pub. For a year, the pub was the closest thing she had to a home. Friendships were easier to forge especially since all of them shared a single purpose. Avalanche started small since they lacked real muscle to do anything more than graffiti and cause minor disruptions. Of course, they got more experienced and wiser with every failure and success alike. More elaborate plans were drawn out. For Tifa it had felt like a thousand Christmases when they managed to force a shutdown on Reactor One and Five.

But each success they enjoyed came with a price.

Tifa steered her thoughts away from the recollection of the blood on the support pillar of Sector Seven. She tried to remember happier times, like when drunken Biggs had ran nearly naked on a dare down the main street of Sector Seven, Jessie crazily taking apart old computers to look for a specific chip she needed or Wedge singing something about Avalanche roaring down and leaving everything pure and pristine and the bad guys would be buried and trembling from justice...

She bit her lip.

Digging deeper into the book, she stopped when she came to an old group photograph. It was taken on their visit visit to Del Costa. Barret stood in the middle, his arms folded with Cait Sith peeking out behind him. Yuffie sat cross-legged on the ground, waving at the camera. She had on a deviously wide grin. It probably had to do with how the ninja girl carted off a whole cartload of material from one of the shops the very next day.

Tifa laughed aloud.

Red 13 who was seated next to the brat had a very amused expression set on his feline features; no doubt knowing what Yuffie was up to.

Aeris, dressed in her usual pink, stood next to Barret. Her green eyes were serene as she smiled faintly. Next to her, a slightly younger and maybe a little more naïve version of the woman who was staring at the picture gazed steadily back at her. The missing faces within the group were apparent since Cid and Vincent had yet to join the motley crew. On the left of the photograph, just standing slightly apart from the rest was a young blonde man. Thoughtful blue eyes strayed from the direction of the camera, as though there was something he was searching for beyond the frame of the photograph.

She carefully closed the book, thinking about all the good and bad times they had persevered through. There was a pang of remorse remembering how closely knitted the group was. Of course, friendships forged through fighting death did not break easily. After they had ensured the peace they worked so hard for was not about to vanish as soon as they dropped their guards, each of them had separated to go on their own ways. Life pressed on and this time they had to face the days as individuals, not the single entity that fought for the future of the world. Some kept dropping by Kalm with news or for a drink others just drifted away into the silent calm. But always, there was the unspoken promise if there was help to be asked, they would always be the first to answer.

Tifa felt along the edges of the journal's cover for the hidden pocket she had made months back. Inside was a picture; the date printed neatly on the back was immediately recognizable. It was the day just before they plunged deep into the heart of the North Crater; determine to meet the end of the journey they had started.

She flipped the photo over.

On the glossy paper were the same blonde man but this time his gaze was turned directly at the camera. There was a hint of astonishment coloring his blue eyes, which was not surprising since Tifa literally ambushed him with her camera. But aside the surprise, he looked relaxed and almost happy with the clear blue sky behind him. Bright sunshine outlined his hair bringing out the color of spun gold. In his hands, instead of the Ultima Weapon, he offered up a small white daisy. His normally grim face lit up with rare laughter.

It was one of the few times she had ever heard him laugh.

Gentle fingers followed the teasing curve of the smile on the paper.

After Sephiroth's defeat, the group had stayed together for the first few days, too shell shocked to notice anything but the fact they were still actually breathing and not buried under a mountain of rock and ash. When the realization of what they had done sunk in, it was inevitable the paths that brought them together began to split and branch out. Reeve went back to Shinra with a mission to rebuild Midgar, Cid had his beloved airship, Barret wanted to put North Corel back on the map again while caring for Marlene, Vincent vanished into the shadows of Nibelhiem, Red 13 mentioned of a further study of the late Bugenhagen's notes, Yuffie went back to her father and country, Tifa planned opening another 'Seventh Heaven' and Cloud…

Dark eyes closed against the wistful ache.

And Cloud…

She had naturally assumed Cloud would follow her back to Kalm or North Corel or wherever she was going to once everything had settled down. From there they would form a closer bond, developing their childhood friendship into something more intimate.

But he proved her wrong. Again.

Their quite leader, saying he had fulfilled what destiny or fate or whichever you wanted to call it required him to do and he was tired so fate and the immediate future should leave him alone for a bit…left – leaving them with the memory of his familiar half-smile and a promise he would call soon.

Of course, everyone was stunned with his sudden decision. They always took it for granted Cloud and Tifa would eventually become a couple and settle into a cozy home that came with a neat little garden in some peaceful town and produce little blonde boys (or girls) with spiky hair with the tendency to run amok with big plastic swords. However, none said anything against Cloud's choice. The man had gone through literally hell for almost his whole life. He had more rights than anyone else to live his life as he saw fit. And if anything, Cloud, at most, had earned their undying loyalty if not respect.

During their last days together, Cloud seemed quietly content at the idle pace his life had taken. He enjoyed the simple pleasures of not finding a Malboro standing outside the window while he shower and the comforting fact no Ultima Weapon would drop uninvited from the sky if he wanted to indulge in a spot of star-gazing. The grim line of his lips softened and the weary note in his voice gradually disappeared. Even the haunted look in the glowing blue depths lessen. He spoke little but laughed a lot more even though it was done almost cautiously. It was as though he was relearning the art of happiness all over again.

It was evident the ex-trooper had finally found that fragile bubble of peace for his soul.

And there was nothing in the world that could force Tifa to take that away from him. Not even the undying itch to help him piece back the memories he had lost in the dark years.

So she sat back and watched as Cloud made no attempt to lead their relationship past the friendship barrier. They came close to the best-friend stage but stalled as though Cloud had all but forgotten there were higher levels of intimacy that lay beyond mere friendship.

At a young age, life had forced Tifa to learn an important lesson – winners were people who unflinchingly pushed the boundaries to grab hold of what they want. Survivors were simply not those who sit back and waited for dreams to become reality. She had lived by those rules, aggressively elbowing her way through the vicious life in the Shinra slums. She was smart and strong and well accustomed to using both elements to her advantage. But intuitively Tifa understood when it came to Cloud, she had to wait for him to come to her.

Truthfully, Tifa believed the man was still raw from Aeris's death. The Ancient seemed to have left a void in his heart that Cloud could not fill. Ever since the incident in the Forgotten City, he had shied away from any form of intimate relationships. Any reminder of her death, no matter how vague, would result in an unnerving silence if Cloud were in the room.

Although she too mourned for the sudden death of her friend, she could not help but feel a stab of jealously. More often than not she wondered if she had died instead of Aeris, would Cloud grieve as intensely like he did for her friend. Would he miss her as much? Maybe a little more?

She smoothed an invisible crinkle out of the edges of the photo.

There was really no one to blame for Tifa's current dilemma. Not her, not Cloud, not Aeris, not anybody. If anything, Cloud was just guilty for needing time to think things over and come to an understanding Aeris's death was not his fault. Maybe then, she would come forward and tell him how she felt towards him. But until that time came, Tifa would give him room to breathe and sort things out on this own. She was confident he would recover and eventually sought her out. She would be there waiting patiently for him, always.

A loud slam from the door diverted her attention.

Tifa's head jerked up, half expecting a herd of monsters to come stomping into her bedroom. Instead she found herself staring at a very sweaty Barret. He looked as though he had just raced a mad chocobo down the Golden Saucer racetrack and won. She hesitated, wondering what was wrong. It could not have been but a mere handful of minutes since he had playing with his daughter just outside her window.

Her rumination hastily turned into pure confusion as the man slowly but carefully conducted a thorough survey of her room. Confusion had grown into large proportions when Barret finally decided to cautiously make his way towards her. If anything, he seemed to be trying his best not to make the slightest sound as he crossed the carpeted floor. Tifa frowned at both man and the utterly inane thought that formed in her head.

'I hope Barret is not thinking of a career in ballet.'

Once reaching her, he began bending down in painstaking slowness until he was roughly around her ear level. There were lines of impatience and concern etched on Barret's face. Any idiot who had the ability to distinguish an egg to a crocodile would have pinned it down as a negative sign.

Tifa's lips thinned as she braced herself for the bad news.

"Have you seen Marlene?" Barret whispered.

She blinked in surprise. It was not like straightforward Barret to play tact especially when concerning his only daughter. If anything, the man would be shooting bullets out of that gun attached to his arm, creating enough noise to wake up the dead. God knew he done plenty of that right after the Sector 7 plate had crumbled burying everyone they knew under tons of cement and steel.

'Jessie…Biggs…Wedge…'

Violently, Tifa tore away the mental image of a pale limb dangling lifelessly between cracked blocks of blood stained cement.

She focused her mind onto the present and drew a conclusion whatever that had happened was so bad that Barret wanted to protect her from the truth. Damming the male population and their general over-protectiveness when it came to the 'delicate' female constitution, she gritted her teeth in attempt to stifle her nervous concern. "Is there something wrong?"

Her mind racing through the possibilities of what could have possibly happened to Barret's little girl.

'The well near Barry's house is covered so she couldn't have fallen in…Marlene knows better than to wander off outside town…outside…did someone take her? Just six lousy months of peace and some idiot wakes up with the notion of kidnapping a harmless child…'

Her fingers clenched into tight fists.

'Ooh, wait till I get my hands on that creep. I am going to rip his spleen out of his no--'

"I'm playin' hide n' seek with the kid. I know its cheatin' n' all but do ya know where she is hidin' at?"

'-stirls…Oh.'.

Barret's sheepish grin was replaced with an enquiring lift of eyebrows at her lack of response. He glanced down her before his expression drew into a deep frown. "Ya still thinkin' bout the spiky head jerk."

It was not a question.

Tifa looked blankly at him and followed his gaze down to her hands. Abruptly, she realized she was still holding on to the photograph of Cloud. She dropped it into the pages of the book as though scalded. The journal then found its way into the drawer of her desk while a blush found _its_ way onto the dark haired woman's cheeks. Unable to find a proper retort, Tifa lowered her gaze onto the floor like a child who had been caught daydreaming in class.

Barret shook his head at her reaction, big hands settling over her shoulders. "Ya are not the only one, ya know?"

"Wh-?"

Barret comfortably returned her questioning look with a grin.

"Ya ain't the only person wondering if his damn ass is still intact," he said, "But hey, he's tough. Spiky ain't one that cracks easy."

Unable to help herself, her lips twitched at his crude way of showing concern.

Elmyra smiled gently at the duo as she passed through the hallway. She had noticeably aged after Aeris's death but the quiet contentment in helping Barret look after Marlene soothed the lines on her tired face. In many ways, she was like a mother to Barret's stepdaughter and in many ways Marlene's presence helped her accept the loss of her only daughter.

She paused at a windowsill where a delicate china vase hosted an equally lovely spray of pink summer blossoms.

An aged hand reached out to cup a flower bud.

Outside, beyond the lace curtains, a dark shadow could be seen for an instant before it disappeared into the clouds.

Far off in Wutai, a young teenager dutifully sat at a low table. Warm liquid sloshed into the thin chinese cup as hot steam rose from the boiling kettle. The young girl, ignoring her precarious perch on the edge of a rather fat looking cushion, carefully leaned forwards in an effort to ensure not a single drop of water managed to splatter onto the embroidered tablecloth. Water gradually took on a tint of pale green as it mixed with the tealeaves that sat at the bottom of the cup.

Yuffie Kisaragi, in a series of rather painful attempts to be graceful, placed the kettle back onto the portable stove. She daintily lifted her cup up in the sophisticated way she was taught to, fingers spaced just slightly apart from each other, elbows not lifted like a man's, chin tilted upwards. Heat from the porcelain licked uncomfortably at the unprotected skin making her believe that people who drank scalding hot tea were down right masochists.

So distracted by the woes of her life, the habit born from knocking back shots of sake kicked in.

With a toss of her head, down went the tea in a single gulp.

Never let it be known a member of the brave Kisaragi clam could be caught unaware by a cup of hot beverage.

An arc of tea went flying across the room. The delicate china fell and cracked against the hard wooden table. Utterly disregarding the thin rivulets of the cursed drink pooling onto the woven straw floor mats, Yuffie spat and rubbed at her lips with the back of her hand.

"Ugh! Hot!"

After several minutes, the spluttering abruptly broke into a sigh of exasperation.

Ever since her return home, Godo her father, decided it was high time his daughter started acting like a proper lady. And in true Wutaian style, he brought the whole plan down on Yuffie with the force of the entire clan's ancestors behind him. Yuffie, later on, swore that if she ever saw her father charging towards her with that _look _in his eyes again she would climb up the nearest tree and stay there until the chocobos came home. Subsequent to the long, ear-blistering lecture, her father personally taught her the delicate art of tea pouring as her debut into the world of grace and femininity. He then insisted she put it into good use….a practice that had never ended with some form of casualty. That had been four months ago.

Servants steadfast refused to enter her 'practice room' after that accident with the kettle, gasoline and a few misplaced newspapers. Well, at least she could be _partially _trusted at making a decent cup of tea. However let nothing be said about her private 'language' classes. In Yuffie's opinion, if there was any cultural learning to be had it better have the decency to be linked to something sharp and dangerous.

Her eyes narrowed, quickly accessing the damage.

Unfortunately Godo had also taught her how to clean up her own messes. Yuffie groaned, mind already envisioning the tedious task of cleaning out tea from the tatami mats. It was a pity with all the cleaning experiences Yuffie had under her belt; she never managed to find out the secret of making the process any quicker.

"Well, at least I still have proper classes that teaches none of this stupid girl stuff," she consoled herself.

Grumbling about reasons why she should waste her time when there were such things as servants who were paid to clean up after the house residents, she pulled opened the sliding door in search of the family's cleaning supply cabinet. The wood slid soundlessly along its paneling.

Yuffie itched to skip off to the training room where she was not expected to sit still for hours bored stupid. Going outside into the gardens just to run wild was pretty alluring too. Maybe the rooftops just to enjoy a bit of fresh air or perhaps the pagoda to beat the stuffing out of stuffy Chekhov. Heck, she wanted to go anywhere that did not scream 'Be Ladylike!' because she was certain if it did she would be screaming right back at it.

'Somewhere…anywhere…wait, didn't I have…something on? Was it today…?'

Her feet slowed before coming to an uncertain halt. Puzzlement flickered before smoothing out into delighted realization.

Quickly, she took a peak at her watch and snuck to the nearest open window. Peering up towards the sky, her face was a study of concentration. A few scant seconds pass before Yuffie's face lit up in devilish pleasure. Sure enough, there was the unmistakable roar of Highwind's powerful engines. Yuffie froze, glancing around her immediate surroundings. If her luck held, Godo should be still engrossed in his daily ritual of soaking through banal details from the day's newspaper, utterly oblivious to the newly made mess that was about to be 'strategically forgotten about' by his errant daughter. Yuffie soundlessly darted down the hallway, mentally sketched out a quick escape plan while keeping a sharp lookout for the metal gleam against the blue skies.

Once she saw the familiar ladder being tossed over the railings of the equally familiar looking aircraft, she bounded noisily out of the house with the speed that would have put Superman to shame.

Sneaker-clad feet seemed to fly across the soil before ascending the ladder with jaw-dropping skill. Anyone watching would have thought the ninja girl to be a monkey in her past life. Unable to resist the temptation with the promise of freedom just two rugs away, Yuffie leaped into the air and somersaulted, trusting her abilities to land her safely onto the deck.

Rubber slapped victoriously against solid metal.

With the grace that was absent during her tea-pouring exercises, Yuffie smoothly straightened to stand upright. An expression of smug satisfaction firmly plastered on her face. Personally, she would have given the landing a score of eleven out of ten but then again she was a pretty much modest person.

A split second too late, Godo ran out of the house angrily waving his reading material in the air. The newspaper fluttered crazily before surrendering itself to the wind. Servants would have the time of their lives trying to fish the soggy paper out from the giant carp pond. Godo, unperturbed by the loss, continued waving his arms as the wild wind shrieked around his yells.

"Yuffie! Come back here!"

The said girl gleefully waved back at her father and laughed as Highwind speeded off to its next destination.

Grinning like she had raided some poor bloke's material shop, Yuffie turned around to see Cid Highwind standing nearby. His dour expression told her just what he thought about her little exhibition. She managed to barely refrain from sticking her tongue out at him.

"Godo should just give up," Cid said, rolling his eyes. He had thousands of emails with subject titles revolving around how 'Being a woman SUCKS' sitting in his computer, most of them unopened.

"That word doesn't exist in the Wutaian dictionary apparently."

"Don't see why you should bother then."

"It makes him happy. Makes him feel like he is doing the 'dad' thing right."

Cid snorted, lighting up a fresh cigar. He leaned his hip against the ship's railing as he casually inhaled a lungful of nicotine. The end of the cigar flickered crimson, a thin trail of smoke curled upwards before it was snatched away by the wind. Yuffie watched him for a moment, finding his actions as comfortingly familiar as the process of drawing her Conformer.

"So…you haven't told me why we're heading to North Crater yet. You know, you could have said a bit more than 'Kid, tomorrow we are going to North Crater'," she said, imitating his gruff voice to perfection.

There was a brief hesitation before the Highwind captain took another drag from his cigar. Yuffie was unsure if it was caused by the shock from her little theatrics or the reason behind their little trip to the place where…well, where a lot of very bad things happened. She rubbed a heel into the steel floor, making the rubber squeak. "So?" she persisted.

"There are rumors saying a silver haired man was spotted wanderin' around the damn place." Cid's voice was blunt.

Yuffie gave out an alarmed cry, simultaneously taking a step back.

"Y-you don't mean...but Sephiroth is dead! We killed him…six months ago! In that crater...r-right?" she stammered, an old fear rearing its ugly head. Her fingers automatically twitched for the absent Conformer.

"Relax, kid. 'Rumor' is the keyword here. There are some really sick people out there who get their kicks from spreading this kind of stuff." Cid flicked the ashes off the end of his cigar in disgust. "Fuckin' A-grade asses. But Red 13 asked me to check it out, just in case…just to be safe. You know Red."

"But Red isn't the paranoid kind. He won't ask you if he didn't suspect something." She frowned.

Cid moved his shoulders as though shaking loose imaginary tension. "Who knows, maybe Ol' Reddie just wants us to find out who the hell is spreadin' those damn lies. Or maybe he just wants us to meet fuckin' little green men makin' snow-aliens. I didn't ask." There was a pause as he inhaled the smoke. He drew the cigar away in a decisive jerk. "But shit if I'd rather make sure that silver haired freak stays dead than have my imagination keep me awake at night."

Yuffie made a sound that could have been taken as an agreement or a rude insult, depending on how well you knew the teen, as she turned away from him.

Meanwhile Cid Highwind eyed the girl who was still actually _standing_ on the deck. It was a rare sight to see Yuffie standing about a few hundred feet in the air without her puking her guts out. He paused, correcting his train of thought. It was a rare sight to see Yuffie standing _anywhere_, solid ground excluded, without puking her guts out. Opening his mouth, Cid was just about to say something regarding the subject when she leaned over the rails, pointing at a faraway object.

"Hey, what's th--" her sentence trailed off when her gaze was drawn towards the ground…or rather, the fact she could not _see_ the ground. Immediately, her face began taking on the familiar shade of green. She slapped both hands against her mouth, body automatically heaving forward.

Cid chucked, not unkindly, as Yuffie fled to the relatively stable safety of the cargo room.

"Just don't puke over my new shipment of porta…hmmm?"

A distant echo of wings flapping caught him in the middle of his sentence. The Highwind captain frowned, turning around. He pushed his goggles further up his forehead and squinted into the horizon. Keen blue eyes searched the empty blue skies, specifically at the direction where Yuffie had pointed out – the Southern skies of Nibelheim. A thin crease appeared between his eyebrows. He could see nothing unusual besides the dark clouds clumping together indicating bad weather. Absently, he chewed on the end on the cigar.

Sparing the direction another passing glance, Cid pushed himself off the railing and walked off to the control room.

'Just your imagination, old boy.'

Highwind easily sliced through the skies, giving the black clouds a wide berth.

He could smell the scent of blood. It was goading his instincts into overdrive. The scent crawled deep into soul, burning through his veins. He wanted it so badly; he could literally taste it just from the smell alone. His control faltered, just a little but enough to allow the monster to catch onto what was happening. It had been too long since the last time he felt the dark inhuman strength uncoil within him. The pull was immediate, sudden, terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Suddenly, he could not differentiate between his will and what the other intended.

And control slipped through his fingers.

He had forgotten the wild blood lust that seared through his body. Forgotten how sweet blind fury tasted. Forgotten the satisfaction carved from pure savagery. It burnt. Everything burnt. There was a scream, a relentless high-pitched cry, but he could not bring himself to care.

His world colored red in hot blood and flames.

Beautiful.

After a few hours of traveling airborne, a sick looking Yuffie stumbled down onto the snowy grounds of North Crater. Her feet unsteadily shuffled through the snow before their owner found haven in a rather large boulder. She clung half-desperately onto the rock, perfectly happy to stay latched on the particularly solid base for a small eternity. Cid Highwind climbed swiftly but carefully down from his ship. Snow crunched under his boots as he stared out into the wide-open space. For a split second, the blue gaze darkened.

A faint shudder ran down the man's rugged figure before he violently exhaled. A faint trail of condensed air wafted upwards.

"Fuckin' hell, you plannin' on sittin' on that damn rock all day?" he demanded turning back to Yuffie's direction. He slumped his shoulders and held his hands up towards the skies in mocking despair. "Brat, I know _babies_ who can sit in a plane without pukin' all over the place."

"Take it and shove it, Cid," Yuffie shot back.

He gazed down at her, his expression perfectly conveying how unimpressed he was with her witty comeback.

The ninja groaned, fighting the lingering nausea. If there was anything that would make her feel better, it would be strapping Cid onto one of Highwind's propellers and send him off on a ride piloted by a drunk. See how he like being on the suffering end of the stick for once. She screwed up her nose, feeling the rough surface of the rock scrape against her cheek. But then again, the blasted man would probably jump off the said ride as fresh as a daisy. Probably ask to go for a second spin, no pun intended. If there was anything constant in Yuffie's life, it was the unfairness of how a miniscule minority had to suffer from motion sickness while the rest of the world gleefully pranced around in their ships and airplanes.

"Quit being a baby for a minute and go scout the area," ordered the man-who-deemed-himself-above-pathetic-life forms-that-suffered-from-motion sickness.

Yuffie simmered silently as Cid worked his way up the steep walls of North Crater, slowly heading towards the gaping hole in the ground. As soon as the blonde head dropped out of sight, she exploded into a long stream of expletives that could blister the paint off the Wutai Pagoda. No doubt if Godo ever had the opportunity to hear a quarter of what his daughter had to say about Cid Highwind, he would have immediately had her tied down to a steel chair and force her to relearn her basic vocabulary.

Nevertheless her father nor was subject target in question was around to react to Yuffie's colorful speech.

Grumbling under her breath at the stretch of unsatisfactory silence following her rant, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed away the temptation to heave out the remnants of her breakfast that did not star in the production 'Le Vomiting Ninja' hosted in Highwind's cargo room. With a firm resolve born from years of strict training, she drew her attention inwards and brought her pulse down to normal. Once she felt more or less grounded, she exhaled.

Bright eyes snapped back open and she nimbly climbed up the huge rock in favor of getting a better view of her surroundings. Standing feet slightly apart, she took in the landscape.

'It hasn't changed much,' she critically concluded.

The atmosphere enveloping the place was still as stifling and as heavy as she remembered. It was as though someone had cast a silence spell and had forgotten to take it off. Yuffie yearned to scream, start throwing rocks down the mountainside or bring a plethora of crazed Wutaian wannabe heavy metal rock-stars…anything to defy the overpowering quiet.

The land around her was barren. It was disturbing how living creatures shied away from the spot. Even _grass_ refused to grow here.

She fought not to shiver.

Although the air surrounding North Crater was considerably warmer when compared to the rest of the North Continent, a thin cotton shirt and a pair of denim shorts was not exactly the proper attire to ward against the biting winds. She hugged her arms against her chest; skin reddening slightly at the pressure where her fingers dug into the goosebump flesh as she tried to urge some warmth back. A wistful thought was directed at lost of the winter clothing she had purchased right after she had heard Cloud's plans on traveling to the snowy regions of the North to find some whacked out chocobo sage for advice on greens. Given that Wutai's climate was appreciatively warm throughout the year, Yuffie had chucked the furs into some unknown part of her apartment once she was certain she did not need them anytime soon and its existence had been erased from her mind ever since.

"Go scout the area he says," the ninja scoffed, mentally weighing out the pros and cons.

She really was not afraid of wandering around North Crater. Oh no. Not afraid at all. Yuffie Kirasagi was brought up to be a warrior of all warriors, heir and future leader of the powerful Kisaragi clan. No Kisaragi would turn chicken at some measly hole in the ground that might just spit out some sword-wielding psychopath. Who could be possibly afraid of possibility, no matter how vague, of meeting some crazed wannabe God who managed to squish an entire city in just one day? Not Yuffie. Nuh huh.

Right.

Carefully, she walked up to the ragged edges of the crater and peered into the darkness for any sign of Cid. As hard as she tried, she only managed to make out the rough outlines of a few nearby rocks. The darkness seemed to greedily suck up any light that ventured into its territory. The pale greenish mako glow that had made the place look like a scene stolen from twisted fairytale was now gone. All that was left was the cracked chasm, a scar upon the earth's surface. Often, on idle nights, she played with the notion of seeking out the old path that brought the group all the way to the center of the earth…just to see if it was still there. However, now standing at the foreboding mouth of the crater, Yuffie's back hair stood at just the thought of exploring where the darkness would lead.

Seeing there was nothing useful she could do there, she moved towards the outer walls that were dusted with snow.

'Might as well have a look around. Wouldn't hurt. Who knows, might find some raw material.'

Swiftly, she spurred into action. Her sneakers were not originally made for sliding down rough terrains but she managed. The slight burn of rubber under the soles of her feet and feel of the sharp wind blowing against her cheeks as gravity pulled her downwards brought an unchecked expression of glee onto the girl's face. Keeping her balance perfectly, Yuffie dug her heels in and anchored herself onto a small ledge. Snow and dirt sprayed down the valley below as she came to a halt. The icy wetness her shoes were soaking up toned down the level of gleefulness.

Half wishing for a pair of boots, she gazed down at the gorgeous view just beneath her. Snow had gradually thickened in layers as the slope evened out. White virgin snow dominated the entire place while the hard edges of stones could barely be seen under their pale camouflage – a picture only nature alone could paint.

Now that she was further away from the crater, she could hear Highwind roaring away several hundred feet above her. The sound was shockingly loud considering the silence she had just left. It was odd, she mused, how all sounds were swallowed up by the void. She wondered if anyone from the nearby villages had heard the deafening explosion of the Lifestream six months ago or if the noise too had been muted like the unsuccessful echoes the group had tried to create on their journey down.

Releasing her thoughts in favor of concentrating on what she was suppose to be doing, Yuffie brought one hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun reflected by the snow. She strained her eyes, watching closely for anything suspicious. Time passed and her efforts went without reward.

All she could see was snow, snow and more snow. Not a single human being or living creature in sight.

'Who in their right mind would want to come here anyway?' Yuffie thought dryly.

The villagers from Icicle Inn stayed clear of North Crater. To them, it was a place of ill fortune. Rumors surrounding the dead area bore evil tales of death's bony hands that relished in claming those who dare step into its newly claimed land. Not even the most trigger-happy daredevil with a death wish a mile wide would venture this far. People knew little about the history of the place and it was enough to keep away the prospect of sightseeing. Not even with monsters around North Crater dwindling down before altogether vanishing, did anyone want anything to do with the place.

Yuffie smothered a grin.

North Crater was definitely not a hot tourist attraction spot.

'A few years down the road, there will be talk about some crazy pale demon who terrorized the continent, snatching babies from their cradles for dinner and making the sky rain fire during his free time. Then came along a muscular eight foot tall hero who ended the demon's reign of terror with one swipe of his big ass sword.' Yuffie snorted at the mixture of truth and fantasy in her little story.

'Well, no crazed demon here that's for sure.'

She yawned into her fist.

If Sephiroth were still alive, his presence would have been felt even if the man had been on the other side of the world. Burning towns and meteors dropping down from space to say 'hullo' always did a remarkable job at catching people's attention. Besides, Yuffie could bet her lifesavings, if Sephiroth had somehow managed to survive the last battle, he would have long toasted several towns for amusement sake, killed Cloud along with the rest of the team that took a hack at him and then make everyone's lives miserable by trying to merge with the Lifestream once more.

Yuffie offered a silent prayer to Da-Chao, grateful that Sephiroth was dead, gone and buried six feet underground.

There was a small pause as she sidetracked from her thoughts, pondering the actual depths of the crater. After a minute of unsuccessful calculations, she shrugged. Six feet, twelve thousand feet…what was the difference? As long as the man stayed dead, Yuffie could not care less if his body was buried under a mass of materia. Well, actually she would be _slightly _concerned if it _were_ materiabut that was metaphorically speaking.

As she shuffled up through the snow, Yuffie briefly meditated on the subject of inane behaviour, which lead to the internal recollection of her father's behavioral patterns. If she had to compile a list titled 'Bad Things In My Life', right beneath the leading plague in Yuffie's young life known as motion sickness would be the damn social gatherings Godo's countless concubines held. There was an unwritten rule participants had to giggle, make tea, drink the damn tea and snipe at each other. Godo had said something about learning through observation.

All Yuffie learnt from the experience was that a two minute speech on world economics guaranteed a comfortable five minutes worth of confused silence.

Logic pointed out, it was a good place pick up a few pointers in fashion or mannerisms _if_ she was inclined to. However, Yuffie rather be sitting cross-legged alongside her male counterparts and tossing back a few bottles of sake while relishing in proper conversation. It was not that Wutaian women were stupid; they were just painfully naïve. Tradition and culture had shaped their women to be ignorant to what lay beyond the borders of the land. The fact that Wutai was a male dominated society did little to help matters. Although there were fiercely intelligent women within the clans, those who did break out of the mould were rare and certainly did not end up as concubines.

In retrospect, Yuffie was glad her father was not a typical chauvinistic Wutaian male who thought a woman's place was restricted to home. Godo was insistent his daughter was taught everything from physics to herbal medication to world politics. Everything the boys in her class learnt, she did as well. It was really no wonder Yuffie turned out a tomboy considering those who could keep up with her intellectually were boys. Girls found her intimidating and generally avoided her. Yuffie did not mind since after several attempts at friendships found girls her age to be dreadfully boring.

Yuffie wondered if Godo had ever regretted his decision in giving her such a high-leveled education since it did play a huge factor in her firm refusal to bend to cultural rules governing the Wutaian women.

'Dad better think twice before pulling out those potential marriage candidates cards again,' she thought darkly.

So caught up in her musings, Yuffie hardly noticed it when her feet stumbled on a piece of rock sticking out from the snow. Before she could even yelp in surprise, her body was already almost completing the motion of falling forward. Instinctively, her arms pin wheeled backwards in a futile attempt to correct her balance. With a thump, she landed on the soft but cold snow. Responding to the nearby presence of body heat, the white stuff immediately dissolved into wet slush. Yuffie grimaced in distaste.

Getting wet was one thing. Getting wet _and_ cold was another thing. Getting wet _and _cold _and _having a face full of snow slapped the whole situation in a new category all together.

She blindly took an irritated swipe at the snow just beyond her head.

"Whoa, Yuffie! What the hell do you think you are doin'! Taking a nap? In this god-forsaken place!"

The ninja's head snapped up on reflex at the familiar voice to see the distant figure of Cid Highwind. The image took on sharper lines as be began closing the distance between them. She swallowed a groan. Subconsciously sketching out a barrage of sarcastic replies to the mockery-like comments that was surely about to come her way, Yuffie spat out the snow in her mouth.

In one hasty movement, she pushed herself up into a position where she could easily leap back onto her feet.

Muscles tensed, body readying itself when suddenly she felt an uncharacteristic chilled smoothness under the palm of her hand, one normally associated to metal.

Dark eyes glanced abruptly downwards.

She froze. Numbness took over her brain whilst terror coiled itself around the control of her limbs. Ice seemed to seep into her very veins, turning her tanned skin ghostly white. She tried to breathe but she could not get enough air into her lungs.

'Oh Leviathan, no…'

Trembling, she brushed aside the snow to reveal more of the very thing that appeared in her darkest nightmares. It was the closest definition she had for the word 'fear'. The cruel curve of metal that thinned into an almost invisible edge was haunted by the destruction it had wrought and was still capable of doing. Already the image of the demon-like man who owned it materialized in her head like monsters coming out from the night. She sank onto her heels, trying to work her throat to say _something_.

"Yuffie, why the hell are you on the bloody groun--"

She closed her eyes, willing the Highwind captain to tell her about how sleeping in the snow was as good as hanging yourself from the living room ceiling…to tell her to get her ass up since there was apparently nothing in North Crater that, that…

The abrupt silence grew and her stomach twisted liken to the first time she boarded an aircraft.

Cid stood an arms length from her, his eyes wide in disbelief. There was a harsh intake of breath that sounded remarkably like a cross between a strangled gasps and the beginnings of hyperventilation. The cigar tumbled from his lips. Fire met ice and there was a faint hissing sound as the flame died out. Cid, for once, failed to notice the wasted cigar. However the sound snapped the man out of his horrified daze. Unlike Yuffie who was still trying to find her vocal chords, he choked out a frail string of unrelated words before managing to pull himself together as to construct a vague sentence.

"That…here…the _fuck_…why…the _Masamune_!"

Through the giant glass windows of his office, Reeve could see the late mid stages of construction Neo-Midgar was undergoing. The structure of the new city vaguely resembled the old Midgar. The most noticeable modification was the lack of looming mako reactors on the fringes of the city. Most of the city's power had fallen back to their old reliance on coal energy. In addition to that, people no longer lived shadowed below the Midgar plate. A more open concept was artfully added into the old design, allowing in fresh air and the clear view of the sky. Despite the changes, the Shinra headquarters still remained at the heart of the complex; its structure a backbone for the newborn city. However, the once arrogant corporation had now a more humble appearance with its mere fifteen floors worth of offices.

Most of the residents of Neo-Midgar were people who had nowhere else to go after the meteor had destroyed the original city. All that was left of the once magnificent city was a mass of blackened, twisted metal and the fleeting memories of what was once home. Many citizens had flocked to Kalm but the small town could not accommodate such a massive migration. Some had even journeyed far south, over the mountains to Junon. However, most had no choice but to reluctantly move to Neo-Midgar and place their wary trust on the new president of Shinra Inc.

Reeve watched as a public bus, one of the many, carrying citizens across sections of the city sped along the highway before disappearing into an underground tunnel. He reached out and touched the thick barrier, fingers spreading out on the smooth glass. His gaze traveled beyond the steel that made home to thousands, lost somewhere in the past where he had left behind something that made life sweet. A precious treasure he could not regain no matter how hard he searched amongst the surviving ashes of fate's fires. The huge window reflected the unreadable expression in the dark gaze before his eyes closed in weary acceptance. The hand folded itself into a tight fist and not for the first time, Reeve noted cynically at how he looked far older than he really was.

"Rufus, you bastard."

He pushed his hands into his pockets, forcibly turning away from the windows…away from the promise that was never meant to be kept. There was nothing left for him in the past except the bitter questions of 'what if'.

Walking back to his desk, he sat down on the leather chair he had just vacated a few minutes ago and gave the piles of documents a considering look. The past six months had been physically and mentally demanding for him. Days and nights blurred into a haze of meetings, construction sites, city blue prints, paperwork and more meetings. The weariness went up another notch when he realized there was a collection of data discs still waiting to be reviewed. As the ex-head of Urban Development, Reeve was extremely efficient keeping on top of his work no matter how crazy things got. In truth, the man seemed to thrive on it. However six months of continuous and intense pressure was enough to make to most die-hard work-addict keel over. And keel over, Reeve might just do if he had to face another week of this.

He wondered if his secretary would be shocked if she had walked in to find the current president of Shinra sprawled over his desk in a dead faint.

'Probably throw cold water over me and hand me another stack of files sign,' he mentally sighed.

After the terror born from the destruction of Midgar subsided, there was widespread of chaos within Midgar when news about Rufus's death leaked to the public. Shinra authorities tried to control the damage but it was too late. Riots started up. People who harbored dissatisfaction for Shinra in the past now stood up to show their hate through violence. They blamed Shinra for the deaths caused by the meteor, some even went as far as holding the company responsible for the meteor's summoning. Since a president had yet to be nominated then, the Shinra company was thrown into a state of confusion. The higher ups were still counting their dead and trying to find the missing. The military that were at the front lines against the angry public had no proper idea with what they were dealing with and troopers were forced to act as they saw fit without any clear instructions from the higher ups.

It had exploded into a bloody episode; one Reeve was still aggrieved about amongst other things.

Eventually a presidential election was held. Since Reeve was the only one on the board who did not have a notorious reputation, it was only natural he won. The fact that he was the head of Urban Development simply worked in his favor. While holding that position, he had to dabble into many different sectors of the company. In the course of his dabbling, he had learnt first-hand how the Midgar worked and also made firm friends within the company along the way. Others knew him through his reputation of being a temperate man who was as efficient as he was considerate – a man who cared for his subordinates and earnestly wanted the best for the people Midgar was serving.

So when he was installed as the new president, Reeve found getting those under him to listen to the plans he had drawn out was remarkably easy. The actual dilemma was creating a balance between the new Shinra staff and the old ones who each had different ideas on how the corporation should work. He had wade through problem after problem all the while personally making sure none of the projects slacked due to office politics.

Reeve could cautiously gather from the response he had received from the public had been tentatively good. The population was comfortable with the homes they had been allocated with and, if he dared add, was pleased with the efforts of the new Shinra.

But of course, public opinion could always sway from one extreme to another if Shinra did not act fast to resolve the other problems Neo-Midgar was facing.

One of the main causes of complaints was also coincidentally the main source of Reeve's headaches. In the past, the population had been spoilt with the near limitless power supply from mako reactors. Now given that Reeve personally saw to the removal of all mako reactors, the city had more or less lost its chief source of power. Of course, that meant the near collapse of Neo-Midgar's economy since most businesses relied on power to function. With that came the problem of bringing in enough revenue to keep the city running.

Reeve snorted at the thought of Neo-Midgar turning to agriculture for profit; an impossible idea at best. One would do better praying for snow to fall on Gold Saucer.

Protests against the ban on the usage of mako energy still continued even though it was made clear it would cause further harm to the planet. In this issue, Reeve's decision refused to be swayed. Citizens will just have to readjust to the drastic change, falling back to coal that was nowhere near sufficient with North Corel's skeleton crew of half-experienced miners. And even if North Corel were able to meet the coal quota, Neo-Midgar did not posses the capacity to turn the material into energy.

The hastily constructed coal-burning power plant located at the far west of Neo-Midgar was running on full capacity constantly. And even then, the power generated from the plant that took a good four months to build, was hardly enough. Reeve had sought other alternatives to the power shortage. However most of the options needed funds and time to build. It did not help but elements were already being spread thin with the constructions going on within Neo-Midgar. Reeve roughly estimated a full year before Neo-Midgar could cough up the necessary funds to end the power crisis. So in the meantime they would just have to put up with the complain boxes filled with horror stories of being forced to walk up flights of staircases because the lifts were not working.

If anything, Reeve consoled himself, Neo-Midgar would end up with a very fit population.

Then there was the matter of the SOLDIER program. When mako usage was banned, parts of the program were forced to go under review for emendation. More extensive training and the proposal of branching off troopers into specializing different areas of combat was put into consideration as a compromise the almost inhuman strenth and lightning quick reflexes mako had supplied. Reeve went through the program's medical files out of curiosity and was shocked to come across evidence Jenova cells being injected to SOLDIERs as part of the program's requirement. Further search named Hojo as the supervisor and lead researcher. Reeve had immediately demanded a comprehensive list of SOLDIERs who were either missing or 'dead'. The results showed out of all 300 names, there were twelve who were reported missing roughly around the same date the 'reunion' was called for. Within the reports were also statistics of the SOLDIER candidates who 'died of unknown side effects' from the so-called booster against mako poisoning. It was the only day Reeve called in sick from work.

Rubbing his temples, he wondered if he had an unconscious masochistic streak, which he was not aware of. The task he had brought onto himself of building hope from the wreckage of broken dreams Rufus and his father had left behind at times felt impossible to accomplish.

Gods only knew, how much time and effort he had laid into Neo-Midgar. The city, as unfinished as it was currently, practically owned half of Reeve's soul.

He reached across his wide desk and pulled a dark brown folder out from numerous stacks of documents. Looking through the first few pages, his mind rapidly worked through the data and frowned. When Shinra announced its decision to buy up all materia stock and forbid any further mining of materia, the public reaction was all Reeve predicted. But as an ex-lover had once slyly said, foreseeing something and having to experience it were two different things.

People had grown dependent on materia, for the fast 'magic' it provided in their daily routines. Although great pains were taken to educate people why the materia had to be 'returned to the planet', there were still materia owners who refused to submit an inventory of their wares.

Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like if he had gone through with his threat to run away with the circus when he was five.

Absently tapping a pen against the edge of his desk, he mulled over the report.

The sudden ring from his PHS startled him out of his thoughts. Out of habit he flipped the file close. Fully expecting another hesitant report of how the reconstruction of the north section was falling behind schedule because the managing supervisor managed to piss off the head constructor, Reeve aimed an annoyed growl into the machine. "Yes?"

Abruptly the downward twist of his lips lifted. There was genuine cheer in his tone, replacing the annoyance. "Red! How are you? Is the translation of the Ancient texts Buhenhagen left behind going well?"

Dark eyes wandered automatically across his office to the silent mog sitting in its lonely corner. During the six months of peace, Cait Sith had all but vanish. The robot now acted as an improvised coat's rack instead of a weapon. More than once, Reeve had to stop the janitor from throwing out the furry machine. He would rather die than admit he missed the bubbly mask he had donned as Cait Sith. Somewhere, at some point, the merry personality had become a source of comfort during the dark times when he stumbled along the thin lines that defined friendship and betrayal. Still, it was a mind-boggling to find himself, a fully-grown man in his early thirties, owning a stuffed toy…_full sized_ one too.

Idly, he wondered what the press would say if they ever found out.

Reeve's pen began traveling in circles across a blank sheet of paper as he listened to Red XIII. Suddenly the tip of the pen split through the paper, breaking the half circle it was making. Fingers tightened around the PHS.

"What do you mean monsters are attacking Nibelheim?" he demanded, "That is not possible. Can't be possible. You _know_ that."

One of the more violent but necessary assignments Reeve had personally headed was the eradication of all mako-infected monsters. SOLDIERs and several members of their group had split up into teams. Each area of the world was allocated to each team before the groups set off on a one-month journey, painstakingly killing off all potentially dangerous monsters with brutal efficiency. Although there was always a probability they might have missed a handful.

"Are you sure? In the town itself?"

With the closure of mako reactors, most animals safe from mako exposure reverted back to shying away from human presence unless provoked. Ludicrously, Reeve thought of the fuzzy northern bunnies that only started chewing at you once you tried to hit them with a rock. So unless the animals somehow had managed to stumble across a mako source, he could not understand why would they start acting violent. Besides, animals, being animals, simply did not have the brainpower to operate complex machinery such as a sealed and partially dismantled mako reactor. Like Barret's favorite saying went, "Damn animals with no damn brains".

Reeve's mind raced through the possibilities: some idiot decided to break into a reactor and accidentally let caused a mako spill, deep crack in the planet caused by the lifestream explosion is now spewing out rivers of mako, someone is going around injecting household pets with mako…

'…and why of all places _Nibelhiem_?'

Sourly, he wondered if the town was the world's most cursed location ever known to mankind. Considering its history, Reeve would not be surprised if it was. Perhaps there should be some serious thought put into a massive exorcism, relocation, name change or something. Pulling out of his thoughts, he quickly jotted down a few instructions he wanted to pass on to the military. It was high time he gave the troopers something more worthwhile to do besides sitting around the city borders and comparing gun sizes.

"Eh, what? Vincent?" He stopped writing to concentrate. The frown on his face deepened. "He was there and he _what_? You found him _where? _Is he okay? Is he _conscious_? Do you need any medical assistance? I can g--"

Reeve let out a breath he did not know he was holding when he was told Vincent was now safely in Rocket Town under Red XIII"s care and recovering with astonishing speed. However the unspoken implication of a monster capable of facing Vincent in the full rage of Chaos hung heavily in the air. A monster that could leave Vincent wounded _and_ unconscious was something to be very, very wary about.

"Look, I will poke around and see what I can find," Reeve said, "But give me a shout if Vincent tells you anything once he wakes up. It was a wonder he could tell you anything about the attack at all from his condition."

After exchanging a few more words, both parties said goodbye and ended their conversation.

Reeve absently crumpled the paper now filled with doodles as he contemplated a variety of 'very bad' scenarios that might be brewing over the next continent. His lips stretched into an ironic twist. It seemed there were always fighting to be done. He wondered if the concept of peace truly did exist and if they would ever be able to reach it.

He smoothed his hand over the other piece of paper, which held his brief notes he had took during his conversation with Red. With one precise movement, he tore the paper into half. It then followed Reeve's doodles into the trashcan. There was really no point giving troops a command that could potentially, and most likely would, result in a massacre. Vincent had managed to barely escape whatever hell visited Nibeilhiem. What chances did mere human troops have? Even if they had numbers on their side, Nibelhiem was always a gamble; one he was wary to play.

There was also hesitation on his end. It was not that he distrusted Vincent or Red. It was just the realist in him demanded a clearer picture of what was going on before deciding on the next move.

With a few taps on his keyboard, he pulled out the file of the team of Shinra engineers working on the Nibelhiem reactor. Quickly browsing through the six-month progress reports on the dismantling of the reactor, he noted it was two days since the last daily report was filed. It was not unusual particularly when the teams were suppose to report back every three days. But the fact did not sit well with Reeve; not with what information he had just received. Frowning, he sent a curt order to his secretary to contact the coordinator of the mako reactor project. He wanted to know what was the current status of the team of Shinra mako reactor engineers that were working on dismantling the Nibelhiem reactor. On an impulse, while waiting for a response he rang up the tele-communications department and called a test be run on the telephone lines to Nibelhiem.

Within a few hours, the telephone on his desk rang.

Two calls later, Reeve was staring darkly into the air.

The Nibelhiem communications were down. PHS lines tracing back to the mountain town were either switched off or their owners were not picking up. The Shinra engineers were missing. The mako reactor administration staff was thrown into slight disarray when they realized one of their engineering team had dropped into some sort of communications black hole. The communications department was literally scaling the walls while trying to discern where the problem lay. There was now an official request sitting on his desk for an investigation party to be sent out.

With a scowl, he read the names of the proposed team and promptly denied the request.

There were only a handful of people he could trust to come back from Nibeilhiem alive. And if the situation was as bad as he was imagining it to be; two Shinra engineers, one communication executive accompanied by four troopers and two SOLDIERs barely cut it.

Reeve dug his fingers into his temples.

He knew he could not afford to spare the Turks for this little journey. They were already spread thin with the relocation of Mideel, overseeing the continued proper disposal of mako contamination that leaked into the small town and controlling the protests that were randomly occurring. The help the multi-talented group contributed was worth more than gold. Reeve had never once regretted taking up the offer that came in the form of Reno with his flaming red hair and blatant smile. A license for a bar in Neo-Midgar, their normal monthly wage (with yearly bonus, of course) along with a reasonable amount of time-off from work in exchange for the Turk's services was a pretty good deal in Reeve's opinion.

'Plus it would take them at least week to get from Mideel to Nibelhiem.'

For a split second, he played with the idea of getting Barret to do the job since he was nearest and then severely reprimanded himself for even thinking of that option. The man was in no position to risk his life, especially when he had a child dependent on him. Cid and Yuffie were busy at North Crater.

Reeve leaned away from his desk, his gaze falling once more onto the silent mog. Truthfully, Reeve could admit the machine was not particularly pleasing to the eye. Newly replaced bits of fur were startling white compared to the worn grayish old fur that covered most of the machine. There were vicious jagged rips running down the mog's side despite the careful mending that had been done to cover it. Its whole exterior spoke of long days filled with strain and bloodshed. If the machine had its own soul, Reeve wondered whether it was glad it had been put out of commission.

The mechanical cat perched on top of the mountain of mismatched fur stared back at him. Its jaunty gold crown gleamed, catching Reeve's attention. The color pricked at his memories.

Thoughtfully he picked up his PHS and thumbed through the numbers. The cursor scrolled downwards until it reached the very end of the list. The last name accompanied with the row of numbers was as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He remembered a time when his fingers had moved over the digital pad, finding the pattern even though his mind could not consciously remember which number followed the last. The clear voice that always answered over the static would always bring the image of its owner who Reeve had trusted to follow to the depths of hell and back. A strong memory of the familiar sheepish grin flickered through his mind.

There was a time when he called that number to seek advice and instruction.

Now he found himself using it again.

This time it was a call for help.

Respect upon an unspoken request had kept Reeve away. Now it was trust that made him reach out.

And Reeve waited as his call was connected.

End of Chapter 1: Part 1


End file.
